


These Cards I've Been Dealt

by Hllangel



Series: How to be Like Myself [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hllangel/pseuds/Hllangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the same every time, some interviewer asks who is single (right now, Harry), and what he looks for in a girl. He's well practiced in saying <i>someone</i> instead of actually telling the truth, but sometimes the itch to explode is closer to the surface</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Cards I've Been Dealt

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [thelostcity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thelostcity/pseuds/_thelostcity) and [paperclipbitch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbitch) who read and encouraged this as it was happening, even though neither are in the fandom. 
> 
> This is a work of fiction, set in the future. I have no claim to know anything about any of the persons featured in this. If you're one of them and you're reading it, I'm so so sorry. 
> 
> I started writing this because I wanted more canon-set coming out fic in this fandom. I also wanted Harry and Nick to be adults and to think through what dating each other actually means, given that they're both in the public eye so much. Turns out I also have a lot of feelings about fan behavior towards friends, families and significant others of celebrities, and also about reactions to celebrities coming out. (Ellen Page, I'm so happy for you, sweetie.) 
> 
> Some liberties have been taken re: the structure of Craig Ferguson's show and what features he uses these days/will use again in the future. Zach is Quinto - I didn't want to tag him in it because he's a very minor part of this, and I didn't want to muddy up the waters of his tag on AO3 with boyband feelings that I'm really bad at shaking, apparently. 
> 
> Title from Chloe Howl's [Rumour](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=brFKqr0BZcE), which you should all run to watch because she's amazing.

_I'm just trying to work out how to be like myself  
I'm just trying to work out these cards I've been dealt._

~*~

_Spring 2015_

Harry's leaving for their second sold-out stadium tour in a week. Months on the road while recording a new album. It's not any different than it has been for the last few years, but this thing he's doing, it's so big that it scares him sometimes. 

He says as much to Nick as they sort out their tea. "I don't feel like I belong to myself. I need, fuck, I need something to hold onto that's not the lads, not the music. Some anchor." 

Nick laughs and pokes at the giant anchor on Harry's wrist. "Think you've got one of those already, Hazza." 

"Fucking funny, Nicholas. You should go into radio. They'd love you at Capitol." 

"Fucking funny, Harold." 

They make faces at each other over the counter until the oven timer goes off and Harry's distracted taking out the roast. 

Later, when they're cuddled under blankets on the couch in the damp spring night, Harry looks at Nick and asks, "What if, though." 

He watches as Nick swallows and sets his drink aside. They've done this so many times, but there's a quiet desperation to it tonight. God, Harry wants this. Wants to make a proper go of it, but he's terrified; of himself, of his fans, of the lads, of _Nick_. 

"We can't, Haz. You know that." 

Harry bites his lip and takes another drink before continuing. "Maybe I'll do it, then." 

"Harry, coming out isn't something you can do for other people. You'll know the right time. I want to do this right. I don't want to slip up and say something on the show, or to an interviewer. I can say we're not together because we're not. I can say we haven't snogged because we haven't. Don't do this for me. Do this for you, when it's right." 

Harry knows that Nick is right. "Someday," he promises, voice soft and rough. 

"I'll hold you to that, popstar. I want my go." 

Harry kicks him, but snuggles closer while Nick turns up the volume on whatever they're watching.

~*~

Harry calls home all the time. He ignores the voice in his head that constantly reminds him that _home_ , to him, is a person.

"They asked me again," he says instead of hello. "I fucking hate it." 

"What did you say?" Nick asks. 

It's the same every time, some interviewer asks who is single (right now, Harry), and what he looks for in a girl. He's well practiced in saying _someone_ instead of actually telling the truth, but sometimes the itch to explode is closer to the surface. 

"Same as usual," Harry grumbles. "Just because I'm used to it doesn't mean I like it." 

There's a pause before Nick says anything else. Harry wonders what he's doing, whether he's playing with the ripped knees of his jeans. Probably, Harry decides. 

"Have you talked to the lads about it?"

"They know, of course they know."

"That's not what I mean, love," Nick says gently. 

Yeah, Harry knows what he's asking. "We haven't taken a formal vote or anything, but we all think it's not the right time." 

Nick lets out a breath, small, but Harry hears it. He knows that annoyed huff. "This isn't something they can decide for you, three votes or not." 

"They haven't, Grimmy, really. I agree with the others. Louis said I should do what I want and fuck 'em. But it's not just me, is it?" 

"It's never going to just be you, Harry. There will always be others." 

"I know. It's going to be a circus no matter what I do. I hate that more than anything." 

Nick's voice is soft. "You can always do it with me. Come in when you get back or call in whenever. We'd love to have you on, you'd be among friends. Just… give us some warning if you're going to." 

"I know, Nick. I'll think about it, yeah?" 

"You alright, though?" 

"I will be," Harry says before ending the call. He's not, not really, but talking to Nick isn't going to make it better; if he's honest it's probably only going to make it worse. He wants a lot of things from Nick, and reassurances over the phone is just the first very small thing. He barely even lets himself think about the rest because the denial hurts too much sometimes.

Louis tackles him from behind as soon as his phone is back in his pocket, and Harry recognizes what he's doing. He gives himself over to Louis' brand of mayhem for a while, and by the time they go on stage, he's back to normal.

~*~

_Autumn 2015_

Harry is pacing the green room. He'd watched dozens of talk show clips with the PR team and the lads, and they'd eventually decided on Craig Ferguson. He'd considered doing it via phoner for Nick, but he doesn't think he can do the kind of interview he wants with Nick; Nick is far too good at pulling the truth out of Harry, and they've talked about this too much. Nick wouldn't deliberately go for the soft spots, but Harry can't trust himself not to turn inside out on air. 

It's better this way. He's met Craig before; Craig has brought his sons to their shows. It's not the most expected choice for this particular interview, but Harry thinks it's the right one. He likes the style of the show, and respects Craig for the safe space he's carved out within the irreverent late night genre. 

They're three weeks from the end of their tour, and they haven't announced a new one yet. There's nothing coming, just some studio time, in theory, if they ever get the songs they say they want to write on paper. Which means that after they're done in a few weeks they can all disappear for a while. 

He walks out on stage to lots of applause, a few screams and a jazzy version of What Makes You Beautiful. It's rather understated from what he's used to. 

"Well this is unusual," Craig starts, his accent putting Harry more at home than he'd expected. He relaxes back into the couch and crosses his legs, trying not to let his foot jangle around too much. "We don't often get boybands in my studio. I don't think the Late Late Show crowd overlaps with your audience very much." 

"True," Harry agrees. It's one of the draws: an audience that probably wouldn't be screaming all that much, especially when he's an unannounced guest. Or rather, that they'd announced him after tickets for the taping were gone.

"You also aren't promoting anything at the moment, since your tour's almost over, and it's sold out anyway." 

"Also true." 

"What the heck are you doing here then?" 

"What if I just wanted to hear your lovely voice?" Harry asks. "Being on the road's rough." 

"Surely there's someone else's voice that you'd rather hear? I'm just an aging Scot on telly in the middle of the night." 

This is it, Harry thinks. He can still back out, but then this would literally be the stupidest interview ever, and at this point he's got some pretty low lows in the bank, all of which are available on YouTube if you search hard enough. 

"You know, I really hate that question." He thinks his voice is more biting than he means it to be, the consonants sharper than his usual lax diction. He takes a breath to calm himself. He's doing this, and he's doing this on his terms. 

"You must know that it's of some interest to your fans whether you've got a pretty girl waiting for you at home." 

"Sure. They're interested in what we ate for breakfast and how many pull ups we can do at the gym. But they all ask me the wrong question. It's incredibly frustrating." 

Harry can see the moment Craig gets it, his eyebrows shoot up and his eyes go wide. He stops just short of literally dropping his jaw. There's a hush on the audience, and he knows they heard it too. "Should I be asking then, whether you've got a nice lad at home waiting for you?" 

"It's complicated," Harry says, nodding, and trusting everyone to hear the _yes_. "It's not that I haven't considered dating anyone, there've been a few close calls. But I've always stopped before crossing any line, and not just because I wasn't out. I'm okay having people say things about me, and it's about to get much worse, I'm sure, but I don't like that it affects the people around us. All the other lads are in relationships at the moment, and as soon as the fans find their girlfriends online, they get a lot abuse. Even our families get some of it, just because they're related to us. I'll take my share, since I decided to go for X Factor in the first place, and now this is my decision to be open and honest, but I won't drag anyone into this with me right now." 

"So are you planning to take London by storm when the tour's over, then? Cause destruction and broken hearts wherever you go?" 

Harry grins. "Something like that. Or I'll stay here in California. I love Los Angeles." 

"Well if you ever need a bed to sleep in call me." The audience laughs, and Harry twigs to the unintended proposition, going fully red just before Craig tries to retract it. "I mean I've got a spare bedroom if you want to hide out from the press for a while. I'd be proud to have the press say I'm your sugar daddy. Though I'm pretty sure it'd be the other way around."

"I'll think about that," Harry says. 

"Well then, Harry Styles. I'm honored that you chose my humble little show for your party, but i'm afraid we are out of time. Would you like to go out with a mouth organ, an awkward pause, or would you like to touch my glittery ball?" 

Harry can't help but laugh, a wide grin escaping, even though the nerves are ramping up, because he's fairly sure his confession will be on the internet before the interview actually airs tonight. "I've always liked a bit of glitter," he says. "And I think it's appropriate today. It matches my boots." 

"That it does, my young friend." 

When he gets off camera, Harry keeps his phone on just long enough to text Nick. He sends a quick _Sorry x_ , because he knows that Nick is in for a hell of a shitstorm. He doesn't think he said enough to implicate Nick, but there will always be people making that assumption anyway. He tweets the picture he took of himself with Craig backstage with a caption about packing his bags and moving in - everyone will get the joke later - before shutting down his phone and chewing his thumbnail until the car gets back to the hotel. 

The lads are all waiting for him in the living room of his and Niall's suite, and he walks straight into their arms, breathing out some of the buzzing that hasn't gone away for a week, not since he'd decided that he'd had enough of the sidestepping and invasive questions after a particularly bad radio interview where the DJs just hadn't given up trying to get a lurid confession out of him, flashing picture after picture of Caroline and Taylor and Kendall and all the others he's been rumored to be sleeping with over the years, and even his mother and Gemma. And then for a laugh, they'd thrown up a picture of him and Louis hugging during the X Factor, right after the band had been formed. Even Liam had been ready to throw a punch after that. 

"Alright?" Louis asks, low and close to his ears. 

"Alright," Harry says. 

They hug him tighter, and Harry has never been more grateful for his band in his life.

~*~

They go on stage at eight, having agreed beforehand not to answer any twitter questions about it, since the interview won't be airing until after the concert is nearly over. Right now it's low level gossip, and it's hard not to talk about it, since he just _finally_ did for the first time in public, but it's probably for the best to let the show air as scheduled. He's pretty happy with how the interview went, and he wants that to be the lasting impression to the public.

He's buzzing on stage, though, and the audience picks it up, making for one of their more energetic shows. Which is saying something, given that they're known for having an energetic fan base. 

It's just after ten by the time they get into the cars. Niall is the one who breaks and checks twitter first, showing Harry the worldwide trend of #thankyouharry, with #gaydirection coming up second. He hangs his head on Niall's shoulder, and watches him type out, _excellent show tonight !! love our Haz. So proud._

If Harry wipes a few tears on Niall's still sweaty shoulder, Niall doesn't complain about it.

~*~

He's missed the first few minutes of Nick's show by the time they get back to the hotel, but Harry switches it on as soon as he's in his room, letting it stream through the speakers while he strips off for a shower.

He listens to the waking up song, with nearly everyone requesting him today, even though he's never recorded one. They all get either Nick or Finchy's terrible impression of him instead, which never fails to make Harry laugh. 

"Are we just doing a Harry Styles themed show today?" Nick asks, somewhere around midnight. "I'm sure we had other plans." 

"Do I need to start counting how many times you say his name again? We could try to beat your old record of seventy five in five days," Ian says. 

"I am banning myself from that name forever," Nick says. "We will not have a repeat of that. It was absolute rubbish." 

"That'll last about five minutes," Matt says. "Anyone want to wager on it?" 

"I've got three minutes, thirty seconds," Fiona says.

"I'm on for one minute. It's all over twitter and text. He says everything he sees." 

"Ian's got a point," Matt agrees. "What's the forfeit?" 

Harry loses track of the discussion, letting their voices wash over him. It's so familiar that he wants to cry for being homesick. Maybe he'll just go home and hole up in his house in London after they're done in three weeks. 

Nick lasts another thirty seconds, and they still haven't decided on a forfeit.

Harry texts, _I like it when you say my name_ during the next record. He then goes on twitter and ignores all the mentions of him, even from people he knows. He posts, "Homesick, tired, happy, proud, honest. x." before throwing the phone in a drawer, breakfast show still going on the speakers. 

Zayn's the one who comes to find him, and Harry collapses into his lap, letting himself cry a bit while Zayn plays with his hair.

~*~

The fucking baptists are outside the venue for their next show in Arizona a few days later, but they're nowhere near the backstage entrance. Nonetheless, the lads flank him all the way into their dressing room.

They haven't done meet & greets for a while, so there's just the sound check and the usual pre-show shenanigans. Harry doesn't comment on the fact that none of the others leave him alone at all. He's spent enough time in America to know that Arizona isn't the friendliest of states for gays, but he's pretty sure that he'd be fine inside the venue, with all of their crew around, and he's not planning on leaving at all. Still, he's happy for the company.

He can never get a good look at the audience during the first few songs; between the screaming and the lights and making sure he doesn't hit his head on any of the set, he's got enough to focus on. Luckily, the singing is second nature to him now, and he doesn't even have to concentrate much to hit his parts. It's only when they stop for water and talking that he sees the signs. The entire stadium is holding up rainbow banners, and for the first time in his life as a performer, he can't speak. 

Luckily someone tosses a pack of tissues up on stage. He's earned his reputation as a crier it seems. He's especially thankful for the tissues when the lads break their well-rehearsed choreography for _Little Things_ and crowd around to hug him at the end.

~*~

Harry does go home for a few days, in the end; The protesters had shown up for every single show of the last few weeks, even in New York, but after the first show, they'd started to see pictures tweeted at them of the counter-protests, of fans in line with positive signs. There's a bit too much rainbow for Harry's taste, but he can't be anything but happy that their fans are still behind him.

He stays with Anne for a week and Nick comes up at the weekend. The two of them hide out in Harry's childhood bedroom, knees knocking together as they sit side by side leaning against the bedframe. 

"I'm proud of you, Haz," Nick says. "You did good." He's said it so many times over the past few weeks, as Harry's been calling nearly every day, his voice small and metallic over the thousands of miles between them. This is the first time Harry hears it from him in person, though. He squeezes Nick's hand. 

"Has it been alright for you? I'm sorry I didn't tell you before I did it. I just … they showed that picture of me and Louis hugging just after they let us through on X Factor. Happiest moment of my life and they're trying to turn it into something to laugh at."

Nick smiles and knocks his shoulder into Harry's. "You did it when you were ready, love. That's all I've wanted for you all along. And it's hardly the first twitter attack I've had from your fans. Or the first time the papers have speculated about us. It probably won't be the last. I've a thick skin, I can take it." 

"I worry anyway," Harry says. He does. His life is complicated, and he can't pretend otherwise. 

Nick reaches up and tips Harry's face so that he can meet Harry's eyes. "I told you a long time ago Harry Styles, that you are worth any amount of shit. I still mean it." 

Nick's fingers are warm on his cheek, and Harry is reminded of all the times this has happened with the two of them. They've been sitting on this cliff edge for years, but it's never been the right time to jump. Harry doesn't think this is it, either. 

He shakes his head out of Nick's fingers before he can change his mind. "I'm going back to New York for a while," he says. 

"Are you ever going to stay?" Nick asks. His voice is quiet and shaking slightly. Harry's been expecting this question, but he doesn't expect the way Nick's voice sucks the breath out of his lungs, making him curl up on himself and pull away from Nick even more in the cramped space. "Is it ever going to be the right time?" 

"Soon," Harry says, when he can trust himself to look up again. "I just, I want to, like, disappear for a while. You can't come live with me in the country, you've got a proper job and everything. But I need some time off like I haven't had for ages. But I'll come back. I will come back for you." He sings the last few words in an effort to get rid of Nick's lingering mood. 

It works at least a little bit, though Harry notices that Nick's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You don't have to wait," Harry says. "I never wanted you to wait for me." 

Nick hugs him, pulling him in so that Harry's face is trapped against Nick's shirt and his spine is twisted in a way that means he's going to have to pull away sooner rather than later. "I haven't, Hazza, really. But it's different this time. We always talked about what we'd do if you were out, and now you are. And you're jetting off to America, leaving me behind." Nick's voice is only slightly bitter, and Harry wants to go back ten minutes so that he could say different things, the right words, so that he never ends up on this same situation again, with the slight hitch of Nick's breath, holding back the catch in his own voice, because Nick doesn't cry, and Harry's just made him.

"Not forever," Harry says, nuzzling into Nick's chest before straightening up. "It is different this time, Nick. It's been years and things aren't the same as when we first made those promises. I just need to figure out the new corners of me so I don't hurt you." It's breaking him to say this, to not give in to the part of him that's screaming to lean forward and kiss Nick the way he's wanted to for ages, since he met Nick, if he's honest with himself (and he's trying to be, these days). But he doesn't think he'll be able to leave if he does. He's sure of Nick, but he's not sure of himself.

Nick's smile is soft, and it melts part of Harry, leaving him shaking a bit. "You should put that in a song." 

"Maybe I will do."

~*~

_Winter 2015_

New York is a revelation for Harry. For all the people he's met in his career, he doesn't know that many who live in New York, so he gets his manager to find some shows for him to go to and doesn't use the VIP tickets she always gets for him. Instead he pulls a beanie over his hair, puts on a pair of useless glasses and sits in the back. He makes friends with musicians and actors and people who have scraped together just enough money for the show tickets. His contacts fill with notations like "red scarf, the one with the bobbles" or "Want that jacket." Half of them tell him that they hate his music before they figure out who he is. (His smile always gives him away.) It's fantastic. 

He doesn't date because he can't trust some random person not to sell the story. Instead he meets Zach at a play one night and follows him home; he ends up staying for weeks, shunning his own rented flat in favor of stealing Zach's t-shirts and terrible hats for wandering around New York art galleries and ridiculous local shops with cream cheese cats in the windows. 

Zach's friends remind Harry a lot of Nick's; they're the New York hipster set. After about a month without so much as a picture of him in the papers, Harry lets himself get dragged along to an indie film premiere and party. He hadn't announced that he'd be there since he's really just following Zach, so the collected crowd of photographers and fans are pretty calm. They do have to sneak out the back when the film's over, though. 

At the after party in some expensive loft, Harry meets Jason who'd worked on the film in post production. When he sneaks back into Zach's the next morning in yet another borrowed t-shirt and scarf, he gets a smirk and a knowing look. Harry takes a picture of all the scarves and hats and shirts that are accumulating on a chair in the corner and sends it to Nick with the caption _starting to feel at home_. 

Nick responds immediately, telling Harry to stop stealing, he can afford to buy his own things. 

Following Zach around New York is enough fun that Harry follows him out to LA, too. But while Zach is in meetings all the time, Harry seeks out some of his own friends and ends up at Cal's for a few days. He bumps into Chris at Starbucks when he's prodded into making the coffee run for a photo shoot that's not of him for once; as soon as he collects his drinks he trips over his own feet and promptly spills half of his iced latte all over Chris. Someone with a mobile gets a picture of Harry trying to clean him up with a fistful of napkins, and within an hour it's on the front page of Sugarscape with the headline, _Harry's new fling?_

He's cute, though, so Harry calls him the next day and they go out for dinner and karaoke. Harry loves the way Chris throws his whole body into singing, like he's well practiced at putting on a show. They end up in Chris' house at 2am, scribbling notes for songs that Harry's had sitting in his head, but hasn't been able to get onto paper. He takes pictures of everything, because he's too tired and drunk to bother transcribing it, and sends it to the lads. 

He really likes Chris, is the thing. He's cute and fun and has a great smile, and understands what it's like to be followed around by screaming teen girls. They go out a few times and the pictures inevitably end up on the gossip sites, but they mostly stay in, singing and writing and drinking. Half the emails Harry sends off with song lyrics and snatches of melodies come back with notes from Louis asking him what he's smoking, but they do actually end up sending some of them off to the more serious songwriters, and just like that they have an actual album taking shape. Harry starts spending more time on the floor of Chris' living room on skype with the lads and their writers.

Falling into bed with Chris is easy. He's made up of angles and soft lips and spiky hair, which Harry can definitely appreciate. He spends hours mapping out Chris' body, learning what he likes, learning his own body in new hands. It's freeing, in a way, because neither of them have any expectations; they both know that this isn't building into anything more than what's right in front of them.

Harry tells him about Nick, tangled up in the aftermath and close to tears again. Tells Chris the wishes and promises they've collected over the past few years, how badly he wants his chance and how scared he is that Nick is going to get hurt by the ugly side of their profession. Chris strokes his hair and lets him talk until his voice is rough and his eyes are red and puffy and dried out. They listen to the show together, sometimes; they listen to all of Nick's easy stories about his friends and what they've been up to the night before and it hurts that Harry doesn't have the matching memories himself, even if it's just of a night in for double Corrie. It's easy to listen from California when it's on at night, but it makes Harry miss the old nighttime days when he'd sneak into the studio and torment Nick for two hours while the team laughed at him. It's a physical ache in his bones that he can't quite shake; it's pulling at him, telling him to go home. 

When he gets some demos of the new songs for approval, he knows that it's time. 

Chris takes him to the airport and says goodbye with a lingering kiss and a promise to call if he's ever in England. Niall picks him up, and when they get back to Harry's, he finds the other three waiting, several bottles of wine and other drinks open. Harry is tired from the travel, but he can't pass up a party with his best friends. They stay up all night, start practicing the new songs, and collapse in a heap all over his lounge as the sun's coming up. When he wakes up somewhere in the middle of the afternoon, Niall is cooking them breakfast, and Harry knows that he's home. 

He collects all the empty bottles and glasses, takes a picture, captioning it _some things never change_ , and puts it up on instagram.

A week goes by before he contacts Nick. He spends it sleeping off the jet lag, rehearsing with the band in the studio, putting together a tentative tracklist, including alternates and extras, and hanging out with his sister and her friends. 

He calls Chris because the producers want to know if he wants a writing credit, and if they'll have to negotiate the royalties. Chris declines, telling Harry that he doesn't want to pollute the memories of their time in LA with contracts and such. He asks Harry about Nick and gives him hell when Harry says they haven't talked yet. 

Harry pushes for the first song he wrote with Chris to be the first one they record, and on Friday night he shows up at Nick's with a partially mastered version of it and a bottle of wine. "You busy?" he asks when Nick opens the door. 

Nick smiles wide and steps back, letting Harry inside. "Always. I've a huge and busy life. I've just ordered a curry for fortification so I can dance all night." 

"Perfect," Harry says. He stops to hang his coat on the rack and give Puppy a pet because she's jumping around his feet. 

"So you're back, then," Nick asks. "Left that boy of yours in LA?" His voice is perfectly even, and Harry can tell that it's costing him a lot of effort to keep it that way. 

Harry smiles, but it's a closely guarded one. "Chris is nice, but that's all it was. He always knew I was coming back to something. To someone else. He wants to meet you, actually. We listened to the show a lot. Comes on at night in California. Made me miss the old days." Harry's babbling, can't stop talking at Nick, and there are so many things he needs to say but if he keeps going like this he's going to say them all in the wrong order. He holds out the bottle of wine, and Nick nods. 

"Come on, then." Nick pulls back from the door and goes into the kitchen. Harry goes straight for the bottle opener, leaving the disc on the counter while he pours out two glasses. Naturally, Nick picks up the unlabeled disk before Harry's ready for him to see it. Then again, he'd brought it specifically to play for Nick so they might as well do it now. "What's this?" 

"New album," Harry says. He takes a sip of his wine. "Sort of. New song at any rate. Half finished, but I rushed the lads through this one the last few days so I could play it for you." The words come out in a rush, which for Harry sounds like a normal person talking, but he knows Nick can hear the difference. Harry wipes his hand on his jeans and bites his lips. 

"Let's have a listen, then," Nick says, making his way to the lounge. Harry sits on the edge of the sofa and fiddles with the cushions as the song starts. He doesn't meet Nick's eyes, just lets the familiar lyrics wash over him. It had been cathartic, writing this one, and he's beyond grateful that the lads want it in a prime position on the album, and have shortlisted it for a single. Maybe even the first single. 

It's a simple melody, clear, and Harry does most of the solos, though occasionally one of the others will join in for a harmony, but there's never more than two people singing at any time. Harry's voice sounds a bit shaky by the end, and he debates whether he wants to re-record it to smooth it out. Probably not, because it's more raw this way. The lyrics have been carved out of all the conversations and near misses that they've had in the last few years, and Harry's mentally titled it _What if_ though he's not sure if they'll keep that.

Listening to it now, with Nick, is like slowly carving his heart out of his chest. Nick, for all that he'll normally talk through their new music, giving Harry a running commentary of what he thinks of the melody and lyrics, is still and silent through. By the time it's over, Harry's drained his wine and bitten nearly through his lip and his finger. 

"Did you write it?" Nick asks when it ends, voice husky and eyes bright once Harry looks over at him. Nick has to know, though. He must hear the promises in it, the fears and worries that they both have. 

Harry nods. "Yeah. When I was in Los Angeles." 

Nick grabs the remote and hits play again, still not talking or commenting, and a lump is starting to form in Harry's throat, forcing him to swallow hard and try to control his breathing. He's not looking at Nick at all, just petting Puppy and looking anywhere else. 

He jumps when, about halfway through the song, Nick slides his fingers into Harry's own and grips them tight. 

When Harry's voice again fades into silence from the record, they're left in perfect stillness; even the noise of the road outside is temporarily gone, leaving just the two of them. Nick tugs on Harry's hand until Harry turns to look at him. 

"What do you think?" Harry asks. He's almost afraid of the answer now, afraid that his life will split into a before and after on this knife point of Nick listening to Harry's heart set to melody. He's already got so many of these splits in his life, but somehow this is the most important one. 

Nick just looks at Harry, a smile starting to show through, and Harry sags in relief, warmth spreading through him from where Nick's hand is gripping his. Nick nudges Puppy until she gets up and jumps off the sofa, throwing a grumpy look back at them before going off somewhere else. Probably the bedroom, where, if Harry gets his way, she'll be displaced yet again. 

They both move towards each other and Harry ends up pitching forward and landing sprawled in Nick's lap, where he manages to elbow Nick in the ribs as he picks himself up. There's still too much space between them, but Harry reaches out to cup Nick's cheek. He can't help but flash back on all the conversations they've had where they'd ended up here. They've turned back so many times that Harry can't even count them anymore, the running tally in his head stuck on _too many_. 

"Haz," Nick whispers, breath tickling Harry's wrist. He's not pulling away, but not leaning closer either. 

Harry looks at him, square in the eyes. "Don't tell me no, Nick. Not now. Not after --" he waves his free hand vaguely around, meaning _the song_ and so much more. He came out for himself, but also for Nick, because he's been wanting this for so long, and he's so tired of waiting for the _right time_ , for the perfect moment where they can have this and the world doesn't turn on them. 

Harry watches as Nick's eyes flutter closed for a minute, waits for Nick to take a few deep breaths and come back to him, looking Harry in the eyes as he says, "I can't. I can't say no anymore." 

And with that, Harry pulls Nick in, kissing him, finally. It's gentle and awkward at first. Their legs are between them, getting in the way, and Harry is not very bendy. Neither is Nick, so they're both hunched forward a bit, and they knock noses, Harry knocking Nick's glasses askew before they manage to line it up properly. Harry has one hand still on Nick's neck and one fisted in Nick's shirt, and Nick's fingers are tangling in his hair, pulling him in further as Harry opens his mouth and lets Nick in. 

It's nearly perfect, except for how their legs are squashed and tangled between them, so Harry pulls back from the kiss, gets a good grip on Nick's shoulders and topples backwards so that they can lay more or less on the whole couch. It takes a bit more effort than he expects, but soon enough he's got Nick on top of him, settled between his thighs, slightly squashing him into the cushions. He's breathless and smiling and so is Nick, and this is exactly what Harry wants, what he's wanted all along. 

"Kiss me again," Harry demands, pulling Nick in with everything he has, because Nick's just grinning down at him like the crazy person he clearly is. 

Nick eventually complies, but not before asking, "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to end up here?" 

It's a few minutes before Harry can answer because his skin is on fire and his mouth is otherwise occupied. "Probably about as long as I have. Which is roughly how long I've known you." 

Nick's face softens at that, and he leans in gently to kiss the truth from Harry's mouth and replace it with his own. 

"Same for me, Hazza," he whispers against Harry's skin. 

Harry's been clutching at Nick's shirt, and it's riding up on his back now. Harry takes advantage and moves his hands down to get at skin, feeling Nick press closer, feeling him moan against Harry's lips. Harry is mostly pinned to the couch, but he can buck up a little bit, demonstrating to Nick that he wants more than just kissing. 

Nick doesn't move right away, though. He grinds down against Harry more, alternating that with moving back against Harry's hands, which have snuck under the waistband of his jeans, all the better to pull Nick as close as possible. 

Eventually Nick pulls back enough to say, "Not on the couch. We've waited too long to do it this way." And then he rolls off Harry completely and climbs to his feet. 

Harry can't move right away; he's too busy processing the sensory rush of cold air on his skin where his own shirt has come up exposing his belly, and the sudden absolute surety that Nick is taking him to bed. _Finally_. 

Nick seems to understand well enough because he reaches down and helps pull Harry to his feet, kissing him before gently shoving him in the direction of the bedroom. 

Puppy's curled up in the middle of the bed, and Harry laughs at the look she gives them when Nick picks her up and deposits her in the hallway. He kisses her head before shutting the door, though. 

In next to no time they're naked and on the bed, coming together like magnets. 

"Want you," Harry says between kisses. "Want you in me." 

Nick kisses Harry again before moving away, grabbing what Harry assumes to be slick and a condom out of the bedside drawer. He kisses his way down Harry's stomach, taking Harry's cock into his mouth while he starts to finger Harry open. 

Harry hasn't accumulated all that much experience yet, but he's got a bit more than strictly theoretical knowlege of what it's like to have his cock sucked by a man. But it's never been _Nick_. He's seen so many pictures of Nick over the years, professional promo, silly ones they've taken together, stupid ones he's taken of Nick in compromising positions that he's hoarded for himself. He's never seen him like this, though; Nick's hair is a mess, sticking out in all directions at once, his eyes wide and bright, looking up at Harry, and his lips are red and spit-slick where they're wrapped around Harry's dick. 

It's the sight of Nick like this, doing this for him along with the wicked things Nick is doing with his tongue and his fingers that gets Harry closest to the edge. He tugs on Nick's hair because he can't quite form the words to tell Nick that he wants more, _now_. Predictably, Nick doesn't listen. Instead, he squeezes the base of Harry's cock, hard, and keeps going. The pain and pressure pulls Harry back from the edge a bit, just enough to let him suck in a few lungfuls of air before he's lost again. 

By the time Nick pulls off and positions himself to push in, Harry is nearly shaking apart. His toes curl as Nick slides home, pausing for them both to catch a breath and press sloppy kisses into each other's mouths. Nick moves slowly, which lets Harry feel every inch of him. Harry slides his fingers into Nick's quiff, which has to be completely wrecked by now, as Nick fucks him, gaining a bit of speed even as he lifts up enough to get a hand between them to grip Harry's dick. 

It doesn't take much after that, Harry can feel his orgasm building from where Nick is inside him, _fucking finally_ , and moving out to the tips of his fingers and toes, making him see stars and nearly pull Nick's hair out when he finally loses control. He arches up into Nick's hand and spills over, breathing into Nick's mouth since he's not capable of actually kissing him in the moment. 

Nick keeps up his movements, hand still wrapped gently around Harry's spent cock. But just when Harry is on the edge of too sensitive Nick thrusts hard one more time and comes, tensing above Harry before collapsing gently onto his chest, nuzzling Harry's neck and sweaty curls. 

After a few minutes Nick pulls off and tosses the condom, bringing a flannel back to clean them off before covering them in his fluffy duvet. He bites playfully at Harry's lower lip, and Harry groans, opening up to him and letting their bare limbs tangle beneath the blankets. Harry falls asleep tucked around Nick.

~*~

Nick leaves way too early on Monday morning for work, leaving Harry behind in his bed, curling towards the empty, still-warm space. Harry doesn't quite go back to sleep but instead turns on the radio so that he can hear Nick's voice while he dozes. He has to leave for the studio before Nick gets back, which kills him.

He picks up a quiche on his way home, but it's much, much later by the time they get around to eating it. 

Nick's going through his phone at dinner, when he asks. "Do you think I could play a bit of the song tomorrow?"

Harry probably should have expected that, honestly. Nick loves hard and fierce and true, and he loves nothing more than sharing what makes him happy. Harry wants to say yes, but it's such a personal song. They feel solid, they've spent years building their foundation, but he's not sure he's ready to test it against the weather of the fans.

Nick must see some of his indecision, so he quickly adds, "You can say no." 

Harry nods. "I'll have to ask the lads," he says. "Have you thought this through, though? You know what getting an exclusive clip will mean, what people will think of it. And that song," he trails off. 

"Are you alright, though? I'm a robot, remember? It's you I worry about." 

Harry is not great at talking about his emotions, but he has to make a go of it right now. "It's just … this is going to bring out the worst in everyone, again. I hate watching people hate you, you're brilliant. And the things they say." Harry cuts himself off. Rationally, he knows it's probably a very small proportion of their fans, but that doesn't make the comments any less cutting. "I'm trying to be okay with it. It's not about us," he's quick to add, just to keep Nick from getting the wrong idea. "I've never doubted us." 

Nick circles around and gathers Harry into his arms. "I won't, then. Not until you're ready to let the world in."

~*~

It's way too early, again, on Tuesday morning when Nick has to leave for work, and Harry tries to keep him there as long as possible, making use of every inch of his limbs, and every bit of his mouth.

"You can come with me, you know," Nick says. "We're not turning on the webcams today." He kisses Harry gently one more time, pausing for Harry's answer. 

Harry shakes his head and refuses to let go of Nick. "Mmmm, would rather stay here and wait for you." He rolls his hips sleepily against Nick, letting his naked cock grind up against Nick. He's too sleepy for it to get him going, but he won't be by the time Nick gets home. 

"Listen in, yeah?" Nick says. 

"Always," Harry says. "Love your voice." 

Nick kisses him one more time before pushing him off and in the direction of the bedroom. Harry doesn't actually go until the door clicks shut behind Nick, and Harry snuggles back in bed, on Nick's side, since he can't keep Nick in bed with him, and turns on the radio on his phone, letting it run while he dozes. 

He wakes properly at 7:30, listening to Nick and Finchy talk about the session track Zane had played the night before. 

"I didn't actually hear it last night," Nick says. "I had a friend over. I love this song though, loved it when I heard it at a gig a few weeks ago." 

"What's your favorite record right now?" 

It's an innocuous question on the surface: Nick works in music, and but even if he didn't he loves music a ridiculous amount. But instead of answering straight away, Nick sucks in a breath loud enough for the mic to pick up, and Harry suddenly knows exactly what Nick's thinking. "I can't actually say." 

"Too many choices?" 

"No, it's not that. I've always got one song that I'll listen to on replay for weeks and drive all of my friends crazy. But I can't actually talk about that right now."

"Something new for us, then?" Fiona asks. "You have to tell us what it is." 

"I'm not sure I can," Nick says. "It's not even announced yet. It's good, though." He sounds so happy talking about it. Harry is reminded about why he was drawn to Nick in the first place, how his endless enthusiasm was contagious and he suddenly feels a bit shit for taking away even a bit of that with his own fears.

"We know what that means," Fiona says. Harry can almost hear the wink in her voice. Fiona knows it's his music, he's sure. And so does Finchy, judging by the high pitched "Ooooooooh!" he lets out. 

"I'm going to play a record," Nick says, voice firm, "and when we come back we will not discuss this. No one wants to hear a braggy DJ."

Harry's phone rings as soon as the music starts. 

"I still need to ask the lads," Harry says before Nick can get the question out. "Three votes wins and all that." It's way too early for the others to be up, but he'll call them anyway. They'll forgive him if he buys drinks for everyone the next time they're all together. "If Niall or Zayn threaten me I'm pointing them your direction." He hopes they'll say yes; he wants to hear that smile in Nick's voice all the time, and if this is what it takes, then Harry will do it. 

In the end everyone is fine with it if Harry is, and so long as it's not more than thirty seconds, because it's just a rough cut. "Can't let the public think our music is crap," Louis says, after threatening to cut Harry's balls off for the early phone call.

Niall just asks how Nick is and whether or not Harry can walk since no one's heard from him all weekend. Harry hangs up on him and calls Nick back once there's a record on and he can actually answer his phone. 

"The lads are fine with it," Harry tells him, "Play the opening verse, but cut it off before the chorus." 

Harry can hear the team celebrating behind him, knowing Nick must have given them the thumbs up. "You alright?" Nick asks. "You sure about this?" 

"Yeah." Harry's smiling and looking around for his pants so he can make tea and possibly some toast. "Now go do your show. I'll be listening." 

"You'd better," Nick says before hanging up. Harry switches back to the radio just in time to hear the next link. 

"So we've got some very exciting news for you," Nick says, voice so bright and energetic that it cuts straight into Harry's heart. "Something we weren't expecting to have, and something no one else does have. I made some very popular people very angry getting permission to play this for you. My source tells me that threats were made to his person." 

"This to do with that new music you were talking about?" Fiona asks. 

"It is." 

"The people making those threats probably weren't serious about it. They depend on him being whole and healthy enough to sing," Finchy says, pragmatically. 

"Hush, Finchy, you're ruining my fun," Nick says. "We do need a few minutes to get it ready so we'll play it just after Newsbeat, in about twenty minutes." 

"Are you going to tell us what this surprise is?" Finchy asks. "Because this one is big, and I think _we'll_ start getting threats from our listeners if people have to miss it because they don't know about it." 

"Please don't do that," Fiona pleads. "Nick is going to tell you while Ian sets it up. _Now_."

"Alright alright," Nick says. "As eagle eyed fans of One Direction may have noticed, the band have started work on their new album. Now, we don't know when it's coming, or what it'll be called. What we do have, is a track. Or at least a partial one, that we can play for you. I think it's quite good." 

"He's not just saying that," Fiona says. "He's played a bit of it for us once he got approval, and it's amazing. Really unexpected. He won't play us the full song, though."

"That's all i've got permission for. Had to get all the lads up to vote on it, and they've given us conditions." 

"You've heard the full thing, though?" Ian asks. 

"I have. I cannot wait for the rest of you to hear it so you can fall in love with it as much as I have." 

"Fall in love with _it_ ," Matt says. 

"Let's go to the news," Nick says, cutting in, "So that we can come back and hear the clip and whip One Direction fans into a proper frenzy, because god knows they haven't gotten enough big news lately." 

Harry sips his tea through the news, leg shaking, checking his phone for messages from Nick or the other lads, even though he's fairly sure they've all gone back to sleep. 

He remembers to call his mum when the Newsbeat music comes on. It's not that she doesn't know about the two of them. Maybe she isn't yet aware that they've finally taken the last step, but she definitely knew all the reasons why Harry came out. And she listens to Nick all the time, so she'll have heard what's been happening this morning. He wants to tell her himself before she gets bombarded by tweets, too. 

"Are you excited for this, Tina?" Nick asks when the news report is finished. 

"I am," she says. "I love the direction their music's taken the last two records." 

"It's been nice, hasn't it? They've grown into their own music. This one was written by the band, too, same as the last few albums." 

"We're starting to get a lot of texts now," Fiona says. 

"That we are. Looks like you guys are as excited to hear this as I am. So here we go. I can't properly introduce it because the title I've been given isn't the final one, and this isn't the final cut, though in my opinion it should be. Anyway, here you go. New music from One Direction."

Harry listens to the first verse, the sound fading out just as he knows he's ramping up to the chorus. 

"That is proper good music, that is," Nick says.

"Can we hear that again?" 

"I don't see why not," Nick says, and plays it again. 

"Truly amazing," Ian says. 

"Yeah," Nick agrees, and Harry can hear the smile in his voice. "It's an amazing record." 

"Oh shut up, just because you got a full copy and the rest of us don't." 

"Well I can't compromise my sources, or they won't give me more," Nick says. "I have to follow the rules." 

"Like we don't know who your source is," Fiona says. 

"Let's just go into a record, shall we? And then when we come back we'll have showquizness." 

The record fades up before anyone can say anything else. Harry showers and gets dressed while listening, and takes Nick's car over to the BBC building, parking underground and heading up to Nick's studio. 

"Oh look, it's my source!" Nick says, but his headphones are off, so Harry knows that it's not live. He's only a few minutes from handing the show over to Fearne, who is hanging out in the studio now too, but Finchy hands him a pair of headphones and Harry settles into a spare chair to listen to the show reviewer when the record ends. 

"So what did we think of today's show?" Nick asks. "Did we do okay?"

Katie is very giggly when she comes on. "I loved the show today," she says. 

"Give us the good things, give us the bad things. What should we never do again?" 

"Well, the highlight had to be your surprise exclusive. No one thought that we'd be hearing new One Direction when we tuned in this morning." 

"What did you think of the song?" Nick asks. He looks at Harry eyebrows up. Harry knows what he's asking, and yeah, he'll talk to her, it's only a minute until they hand the show over anyway, and they can probably escape pretty quickly. "I love it." 

"I loved it too," Katie says. "I really wanted to hear more of it, but I understand that they don't want to show more if it's still pretty rough." 

"Thank you, Katie," Harry says, leaning into Nick's space to get at the mic. "I'll be sure to pass that along." 

There's a sudden quiet on the line, and Harry's fairly sure Katie's had to muffle a shriek. "Is that you, Harry?" She asks, when she recovers. "This isn't what I expected when they picked me to be show reviewer." 

"To be fair," Harry says, "I only walked in about five minutes ago, so they didn't expect me either."

"Can you tell us when we'll be able to hear the full song?" 

"I'm afraid I can't. I pushed for this one to be done first," he catches Nick's eye and grins before continuing, "but we've really only started recording, and this is the only thing we've even remotely finished so far. Ask us again in a few months." 

"I'll remember that," she says. 

"Any down points of the show today?" Nick says, taking control of his show again.

"Well showquizness was a bit flat, but that could just be because it was happening after that new song? It tore my heart out, Harry and it was only the start of the song." 

"Might want to keep that under watch," Nick says. "We don't want to send you to A&E. So what would you give us today, out of ten?" 

"Well, the music just made my morning, and getting to talk to Harry Styles unexpectedly made it better, though I suppose that's not part of the show, proper. But the early part of the show was lacking a bit of energy, and Showbot was really grumpy today, probably from being ignored, so I'll give you a nine." 

"Only a nine?" Nick asks. 

"Sorry," Katie says. "It's pretty good, overall, though." 

"Yeah, I suppose," Nick says. "Should've brought Harry in earlier to boost the ratings." 

"Yeah sorry, I was asleep. Your show is on too early for me." 

"It is the Breakfast show," Nick says, smiling. "Wouldn't do to have it on in the middle of the afternoon. But I'm afraid that's it for us today, though. Say goodbye, Harry, we're going to play you one more record and hand the show over to the lovely Fearne Cotton." 

"Goodbye, everyone. Thanks for giving us such lovely feedback on the new record." 

Nick signs off, and they make sure that two songs are queued up and Fearne's ready before shutting down the mics and boards for the day. 

Harry sits in Nick's lap while he cleans up his part of the desk. Nick's team don't miss what it means. "So this is why Nick got the new record?" Fiona asks. 

"Yeah," Harry said. "I wrote that one. It's a bit like serving yourself up and hoping everyone likes it." 

"You've nothing to worry about," Ian says. "From the bit we heard it's going to be great."

"Well, I'm going to take my boyfriend for breakfast before I've got to go back to the studio. I'll give him back later." 

"Boyfriend?" Nick asks. He seems surprised, which is fair since they haven't really talked about labels yet. Or maybe they have in the past, but not since Harry had come back from America. 

Harry pinches him. "Yeah, you knob." Then he kisses him. It's not exactly public, it's just the breakfast crew and they won't say anything, Harry knows, but it's still a bit weird to hear the wolf whistles from the other side of the studio, which is really only about three feet away. 

"Get on with you," Matt says. "We've got real work to do." 

Harry salutes him and drags Nick out, down the elevator and to the car park. Harry is very glad that he'd brought Nick's car instead of his own when they emerge and there's a small group of fans being held away from the building doors by security. They're looking in the wrong direction, which is good, because Harry is not ready for this to turn into a mob scene. He turns left, away from the building, as soon as possible, ditching the crowds for the rush of mid-morning London traffic. 

"Don't you have to be in the studio today?" Nick asks. 

"Not until later," Harry says. "Was actually planning on taking you out for breakfast, not just dragging you home." 

Harry knows that Nick doesn't miss the implications, especially after the conversation they had last night. 

"You sure about this? We can always just go to the shops and go home." 

"I am if you are. I don't like my fans taking it out on you. I never have, even before. But it's not my call whether or not you're ready for that." Harry smooths his hair back off his forehead where it was starting to fall. He glances over at Nick. 

"I'm really alright with it," Nick says. "I'm sorry about this morning, though. I didn't mean to slip up like that." 

Harry just shrugs and takes Nick's hand in his, resting it on Nick's leg as they drive towards one of their favorite brunch places. "I want to do this, I don't want you to have to hide anything. Though maybe don't spill all the dirty details on radio." 

The sound of Nick's laugh is always better in person than it is over the radio and Harry revels in it, squeezing Nick's hand as he takes a giant breath before saying, "Think I'd get sacked if I did that, even if the listening figures went up." 

They find parking a few streets away and amble slowly towards the restaurant, knocking shoulders as they go. Harry can see people taking note of them together, can see the phones coming up to take pictures, but he doesn't think they're presenting a picture that's any different than normal. 

"Shall we?" Harry asks and nods towards the nearest raised phone. He knows that Nick knows what he's asking. 

Nick smiles at him, grin so wide it's splitting his face in two, and reaches over to twine his fingers with Harry's. Harry matches his smile with his own.

~*~

**Epilogue**

_Spring 2016_

"Good morning everyone! It's Friday, and it's a lovely Friday because it's that time again," Nick says into the mic, "It's been ages and ages since the last one. It took us all by surprise, last time." 

"Only sort of," Finchy says.

"I don't know what he's on about," Nick says. "I'm talking about new music from One Direction! We were lucky enough to get a surprise preview of the new single a few months ago, but today is the day. We here on Radio 1 have the exclusive first play of the single _Too many wishes_ coming up just after eight, and we'll have a nice chat with Harry Styles, since he's the only one who agreed to get up early enough for our show, before we play it." 

Harry is already in the studio, but they'd agreed not to let on just yet, especially since Harry isn't quite awake. He's got a coffee in one hand, and he's sitting on the bench by the door to the studio occasionally sipping it. It'll probably be cold long before he's done, but that's what the microwave is for.

He's trying to stay awake, but he starts when Nick comes over to shake his shoulder during a record, telling him that it's nearly time for their interview. Nick had offered to pre-record it so that they could get at least one more of the lads in, and so that they would have a chance to edit out anything he isn't comfortable broadcasting, but Harry had turned it down because this is _his_ song more than anyone else's, and he has to be able to talk about it honestly. He's done hiding; that's what the last few months have been about.

He and Nick had talked a lot in the run-up to the release, about how much they wanted to reveal in the interview. Usually it's Harry who wants to keep things as private as possible, but this time he's ready to put the full thing out on the line. It's all in the song if you listen hard enough, anyway. 

Matt turns on the webcam and Fiona hands Harry a set of headphones, and they both point to the chair they've set out on their side of the desk, facing Nick. There are extra microphones on that side, along with extra chairs, but Harry drags one around so that he can sit next to Nick. He'd debated whether to just drop into Nick's lap, but decided that he didn't want to actually hinder Nick from doing his job. 

They both end up on the other side of the desk, because Finchy complained that they couldn't see both their faces in the webcams otherwise. 

"It's 8:04, and we're going to play some Bastille and then we'll be right back with Harry Styles. Text us at eight double-one double-nine if you want to say hello. We've also turned on the webcams, so come join us at bbc.co.uk/radio1 if you like." 

Harry is a bit nervous, but Nick pulls his chair closer and puts a calming hand on Harry's leg under the table. All too soon the record is ending and Nick is speaking again. 

"That was Bastille, but now we're here for what you're all waiting for, hello to Harry Styles from One Direction!" 

"Hello Nicholas Grimshaw," Harry says, falling easily back into being interviewed by Nick. They've done this so many times; it's comforting and familiar. 

"How are you today, Harry Styles?" 

"I'm a bit nervous to be honest," Harry says. "I know we got good feedback from the snippet you played ages ago, but that wasn't the full song." 

"You wrote this song, is that right?" 

"I did. I wrote it with a friend last autumn, a month or so after I came out. I took some time off and met some wonderful people and one of them helped me get the words on paper." 

"Tell us what the song is about. What was your inspiration for this song?" 

Harry swallows, because this is the part he's been dreading. He's been in the spotlight for over five years, but there have always been parts of himself that he refuses to let the public have; until now. 

"It's about you," Harry says. Nick gives him a soft smile, and nods for him to keep going. "It's all the promises we made to each other before, all the things I wanted but wasn't brave enough to stand up for." 

"Tell me what the last few months have been for you," Nick says. "What's been the best thing that happened, other than myself, of course." 

Harry loosens up a bit, because this is a question that everyone's asked him in the last few months. "Well, you are at the top of the list, of course. But it's been a weight off not to have to hide anymore." 

"What's the worst part?" Nick's voice is gentle. When they'd decided to talk about this part of it Harry had been unsure of the answer, because so far as he could tell, it'd only been the subject of the negative attention that had changed; there have always been people who hated him for no reason. 

"It's been quite good, actually. I may have cried on Niall's shoulder that first night. And possibly a bit on Zayn's as well. My interview aired while we were on stage, so we came off to tons of wonderful messages on twitter. I did see a lot of people claiming that they knew all along, though, which hurt." 

Harry pauses to gather the right words for this. He's practiced it over and over in his head but sometimes the words get jumbled up before he can get them out. 

Nick squeezes his knee and prompts him with a quick question, "Tell us what you mean." 

"It's scary," Harry says, linking his fingers with Nick's under the desk. "I know things are better than they were even five years ago, but it's still difficult to come out and say the words. It took me years before I was finally done with hiding who I was." Harry's never talked about what exactly made him hit the breaking point, but he decides suddenly that he wants the full story out. He won't mention the names of the DJs, or the station they'd been on, not that it won't be found out anyway, their fans are really good detectives, but he really wants to keep that sort of thing from happening to others in the future, if he's at all able. 

"I know our fans have been speculating about me and Louis from the beginning, and we'd been asked about it in interviews before, but throwing a picture of one of the happiest moments in my life at me for a rude joke was over the line, and I'd decided I'd had enough hiding. It was easy to say to myself that I'd do it, I'd been telling myself and you that for ages, but a hard decision when it came to planning the details, and I almost backed out in the middle of my interview with Craig Ferguson. So for people to come up to me and tell me that they knew the whole time made it seem like those hard choices didn't matter. That years of hiding and putting off my own happiness so my band and friends and family wouldn't get hurt didn't matter. That was the worst thing." 

There's a few seconds of silence in the studio, and Harry has to wipe a few tears away.

Fiona finds her voice first. "Thank you, Harry," She says, softly. 

"We are so proud of you," Nick says, wiping his own eyes. "Okay. Hard questions done because we are the breakfast show and we don't want to send our listeners off to school or work in the same state that we're all in listening to that. Tell us about the record." 

"I think there's enough of the story in the lyrics. We recorded this one first because I'm not good with words all the time, but I was really proud of this song that my friend had helped me write, and I needed to show it to someone. We've re-recorded pieces of it since you played the preview, but on the whole it's the same. Not our usual style, but I think the circumstances warranted something out of the box." 

Nick cracks a smile at the unintended pun, and nudges Harry's foot under the table. "Why don't you introduce it properly, and we'll play it. Text us what you think at eight double one double nine. Thank you, Harry Styles, for getting up early to come in here with us, and for telling us the story behind the song." 

"Anytime, Grimmy," Harry says. "This is One Direction with Too Many Wishes here on the Radio One Breakfast Show." 

Harry watches as Finchy fades up the track from his side of the table and takes his headphones off. Nick is looking at him, eyes shining, the soft smile lingering on his lips. "Come here," Nick says, tugging Harry forward into his lap and kissing him gently. They linger like that for a minute, Nick's lips moving softly against Harry's, until a pointed throat clear makes them move away. 

"I didn't get the webcams turned off in time," Finchy says. "You're all over Tumblr already." He turns the screen around and Harry can see the same low-quality screencap reposted at least five times already. 

Nick blushes, and Harry buries his face in Nick's neck. It's one thing for the public to know that they're dating, but another to be kissing live on Radio. 

"You alright?" Nick asks softly in his ear. 

Harry pulls back and looks at him when he says, "Never better." And kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr! [Glitterbootsandyellowshorts](http://glitterbootsandyellowshorts.tumblr.com/)


End file.
